


Phase 4

by EnderrrCat



Series: The Maze Runner: Extended [1]
Category: The Maze Runner (Movies), The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Fanfiction, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-15
Updated: 2021-03-22
Packaged: 2021-03-24 04:54:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30066972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EnderrrCat/pseuds/EnderrrCat
Summary: The tests aren't over. No, they won't ever be. This is Phase 4.Ender+KC :D
Relationships: Brenda/Thomas (Maze Runner)
Series: The Maze Runner: Extended [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2212056
Kudos: 1





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Posting more pages every day!]  
> Enjoy!

**Thomas**

Darkness. Thomas just stared. Was he staring? He felt cold metal against his skin. He sat up, but there was nothing there, nothing to look for. Where was he? He felt around, hoping his eyes would adjust soon to the void of emptiness. He found a wall, cold and metallic again. He went to the right, banging into another one soon after. Still metal. He kept going, trying to make sense of where he was. Another wall. Thomas started racking his brain. He remembered things this time; the Maze, WICKED, The scorch, his friends.  _ His friends.  _ Where were they? Was he alone? Was this another white room, and was the Rat Man going to come out again  _ alive? _ His mind raced with questions, as he mapped out the room. Four walls, big indents in them, and just two subtle ones on the north wall. Possibly a door, with windows on the sides of the room. The place was small, with many things pushed against the walls as he found out earlier. The ceiling was some sort of wire, almost like a grate, or a fence. The ceiling had hinges, with a small line of air between them.  _ It must open up,  _ Thomas thought. He kept digging in his memories, trying to find anything familiar to him about this place.  _ When did I remember being put in a small room that’s dark?  _ Then, as if to answer his questions, it hit him. The box. Thomas still couldn’t see, but he remembered last time like it was yesterday. He whirled around, finding the same spot he sat in months ago. He tried to hold back tears, tried to show no emotion. If this was WICKED wanting more trials, he was not having it. He crumpled down, a surge of exhaustion hitting him. He felt sedated and numb as he dozed off in the corner. 

**Newt**

He awoke, his head spinning. He felt like he’d been heavily drugged, which is not good, to say the least. It was pitch black, and a subtle noise of something buzzing on and off filled the room. He felt the hard metal floor on his hands as he pushed up, onto his feet. The ceiling felt more like a fence, if anything. He tripped on a couple boxes near the wall, as he felt for the dimensions of the room. It was small, and the buzzing noise came from one of the corners. He didn’t want to find out what it was. He remembered almost immediately where he was, back in the box from the Maze. Newt sat down and waited there for a while, confused.  _ Why would they send me back in?  _ He thought. He strained his eyes to find any hint of light in the darkness. Nothing. The buzzing had stopped from the corner, and he heard something shift. Then again. Someone was in the room with him, and that buzzing sound must’ve been snoring. He quietly made his way to the wall and listened, terror starting to grow in him.

**Thomas**

Thomas cracked his eyes in the darkness, still groggy from the drugged sleep. He got to his senses quickly, remembering he was in the box still. Slowly getting up, he started feeling the walls again for the north side. He had a plan. Once Thomas was at the door, he began to feel for any nooks, or crannies. If he found one, he could try to pry it open, though that plan was probably not going to work. He figured that the doors would be sealed shut, even if the grate above wasn’t. He felt around for a while longer, concluding that there wasn’t a space to hold on to. He went back to the middle of the room, feeling for the opening of the grate. A small noise made Thomas pause, thinking it was a footstep on the cold flooring. He continued anyway, growing aware that he was most likely not alone. He needed to get out before whatever was in the room with him attacked. He found the opening, and pushed lightly on the grate. It swung open easily, and he tried setting it down on the other side gently. It didn’t work that well, and a loud clang filled the air.

**Newt**

The clang had startled Newt, sending him straight into a sense of fight or flight. He was on the opposite side of where he had first hidden, the noise right in the center. He had to act, who knows what the guy in front of him could do. He made a quick plan;  _ Tackle the guy, pin him down, and beat the Klunk out of him if he tries anything.  _ Newt heard the figure start pulling themselves out of the box. It was now or never. He pushed off the wall, gaining speed, and ran across the void of darkness. He felt a leg brush against his hand, grabbed it and yanked downwards with all his might. He heard a yell as something slammed against the hard metal flooring, and Newt jumped on top of it. He found the man’s arms, pinning them, and putting a knee on hiis chest. They stopped moving, as if they knew that they couldn’t win.  _ What now?  _ He thought. “Who the bloody hell are you? And why am I back in the box?” He yelled, not hiding the fear in his voice.

**Thomas**

Newt. That was definitely Newt. Thomas squirmed, trying to get his arms free again but the boy just squeezed his wrists harder. He almost cried out from the pain— Newt was always stronger than he remembered. He did his best to calm down, squinting through the darkness to try and see the Glader. “Newt! Newt, It’s Thomas!” He nearly screamed back. He felt the boy hesitate, and he tried again to break free. Newt didn’t let go of him, but he didn’t squeeze anymore.  _ That’s a good sign,  _ he thought. After a few silent moments, Newt finally got off of him. 

“Tommy, you scared the bloody hell out of me!” He said, in a calmer voice. 

“Yeah, getting attacked out of nowhere by who-knows-what feels the same way.” he replied. 

“Sorry about that, I just thought it was gonna be someone from WICKED, not you, shank.” At least Newt’s tone was getting happier for a place they couldn’t see in. He imagined seeing a smile spread across the boy’s face. “Well, we’re in the box. I’m sure you’ve figured out that much, so, what now?” He hoped Newt could answer it.

“I’m not too sure, Tommy.” It sounded more distant, he guessed Newt had stood up. There was a shuffling around in his direction, and then a small crash on the floor. Newt was looking for light, he assumed, so he got up and searched around as well. 

**Newt**

Newt had started searching for anything he could use; a flashlight, or a match, something to help them see. A ruffling sound from behind told him that Thomas had started searching too. He picked up a few boxes, looking behind them. Nothing. He heard Thomas say something, but he couldn't make it out.  _ Probably ‘Shuck it’, _ he guessed. He decided after a while to open a crate up and take the chance of touching something unpleasant for at least a box of matches. He slid his fingers across the top of the crate, looking for the lid. When he felt it, he pried it open and started rummaging around. Something was at the top, a thin pole with something cold and hard at one of the ends.  _ A hammer,  _ he thought.  _ That feels promising.  _ He pulled it out and put it near his feet, so he could put it back in later. A crash made Newt jump as a box fell off from it’s position. “Tommy, maybe try not to break everything in the boxes, will ya?” He had to stifle a groan at Thomas. 

“Sorry, I might’ve put it back too much on the edge.” He replied, not far from the crash he heard. A few minutes passed and Newt found another hammer, a few cords, he’d guessed, a box of nails, and something spherical. He was close to giving up on the box, when he felt something rectangular. He pulled it out, feeling the sides. They were scratchy, like sandpaper, and the flap that opened the box wasn’t sealed shut like the nails. He opened it, and took out the thin wooden stick. 

**Thomas**

A match lighted behind him, making the walls glow an eerie orange. He turned to see Newt on the ground, with the half-empty box pushed aside so he could get up. The boy walked towards the center of the room, then propped up the match so it stood up. It illuminated the whole room now; the East and West side had two lines of windows, and the north one had a door like an elevator. Boxes and crates lined the walls, with a few bags scattered close.  _ Wood,  _ he thought.  _ We need wood if we’re going to keep this light.  _ He went back to searching, prying lids open and taking quick glances. The light made it no longer needed to feel what the items were. After searching a couple crates, he found a few planks. Thomas brought them back to Newt, handing them over. “Try using the wood to get a bigger fire, maybe it could last longer,” he said. “So we don’t use up all the matches on the first night.” As soon as he said that, the match died out on the floor. He heard Newt grumble something, but he didn’t ask what the boy said. 

**Newt**

The makeshift campfire crackled as Newt sat beside it, trying to piece the memories together, so that something would hopefully make sense. 

“We won’t last long here… we need some buggin’ food,” he mumbled half to himself as Thomas stood up. 

“Good that,” the boy replied. He looked around, as if they hadn’t a hundred times already, searching for anything they could use. 

“Tommy, we should rest; we need to keep our energy up.” At that moment, the box shook violently. Newt stumbled back and secured himself into a window, but Thomas couldn’t react in time. He fell with a yelp, his head banging loudly on a crate as he made his way to the floor. 

“Tommy!” He screamed. Adrenaline pumped through his blood as he planted his foot in the floor. He slowly made his way over to Thomas, trying to keep his balance. The fire had died in the shaking—the wooden planks were now scattered across from where Newt was crouching, as far as he could tell. The room had gone pitch black again, as he almost tripped over the Glader in the middle of the room. He dropped down to Thomas’s side, still yelling.

“Tommy, wake up!” He shook Thomas; it felt too familiar.  _ Had this happened before?  _ His thoughts were cut off as Thomas gasped into a coughing fit. Relief washed through Newt. “You scared me half to death, you shank!” He sighed and quickly glanced over his shoulder. The ride wasn’t over yet.

**Thomas**

The back of his head stung like crazy. The room was still shaking, with Newt beside him barely staying balanced. He groaned, rolling over on his stomach to push himself up. The room sounded with a boom, and the shaking had stopped abruptly. He stood up wearily, Newt following him close behind. 

“Is… Is it over?” Thomas’s voice was shaky, but he didn’t care. His mind was racing with a million questions. 

“Maybe… whatever it was, let’s—“ The box lurched upwards, knocking the two Gladers off their feet again. A horrible, screeching sound came from the box as it scraped along the pulley system lifting it up. The windows passed bright lights shining in the tunnel they were heading up through, illuminating the entire box for split seconds. Thomas urged himself not to scream in front of Newt.

“Are we going up into the Maze again?” Newt yelled over the grinding noise.

“I don’t know!” The fear was overwhelming Thomas, who started crawling towards his corner. He heard Newt hit a wall, which surprisingly echoed through the box. He squeezed himself tightly into the corner, now littered with broken boards and loose items that were thrown around in the shaking. He closed his eyes, able to sleep despite the noise; or maybe it was another drug.

**Newt**

The box continued its steady climb. Ever once in a while it jolted, sending a shudder through Newt. He didn’t know where Thomas had gone, but decided against finding him.  _ He needs the rest,  _ he thought.  _ If he even  _ is _ resting.  _ He searched the floor for most of the items that scattered about, pushing them aside. He realized that the supplies around him were fairly similar to what they had in the Glade.  _ There must be food in here somewhere,  _ he thought.  _ They wouldn’t leave us here to starve.  _ Newt got up again in the darkness, walking towards a swaying stack of crates. He picked up the top one, sitting down and started feeling through it. At a quick touch, he figured that it wouldn’t be in the box. He closed the lid and pushed it forward, making the box slide across the floor. A violent jolt hit the lift as it went up, making the stack of boxes collapse. Newt yelped as he tried to get out of the way, but the crates were already on top of him. Clangs and crashes filled the air, along with his yells.

**Thomas**

A box fell on his back, waking him up in pain. He pushed it off when he heard Newt, and scrambled to his feet. The room was still heading up, as slowly as it went. A light had passed the windows, illuminating Newt collapsed on the ground, with two crates on top of him. Thomas ran over to the Glader as the lights went out, making him trip on a loose board. He stumbled forward, dropping to the ground right next to Newt. Thomas immediately started lifting the crates off the boy, earning a groan from him. When the first box was off, Newt was able to help Thomas with the second one. It was much heavier, but it didn’t make a big sound when they rolled it off. “Thanks Tommy,” the boy said, wiping off some of the dirt from his shirt. Thomas nodded, then groaned as he stood up, his bruises stinging. 

“When do you think we’ll reach it? The top?” He asked. Newt looked at him, still laid flat on the ground. 

“Soon, if we  _ are _ going up.” He replied. Thomas just nodded again. 

“You know,” Newt began jokingly, “all that nodding your doing is becoming pretty buggin’ obnoxious.” Thomas grinned and nodded as he stared at the wall in front of him. “God  _ DAMN _ it, shank!” He punched Thomas in the arm, and both of them broke into a laugh. 

“I’ll try- but I can’t promise; I’d be lying,” he said, smiling.

**Newt**

The box suddenly halted, so harsh it felt like the Gladers would fly up. Newt blinked, the memories of his first time charging back into him like a wave. He looked across to Thomas, who was already up. Everything felt so tense as he quietly reached for a half-burnt plank, whispering for Tommy to arm himself as well.  _ Attack first. Don’t let them get to you,  _ He thought.  _ Whoever ‘them’ is.  _ Newt’s grip tightened as clanking and footsteps sounded above. The wood was rough, but the texture somehow comforted him.

“Stay in the dark. Who knows, they might be bloody cranks.” Thomas nodded, making Newt almost burst into laughter again.  _ Not now. Focus is key,  _ he reminded himself. A hatch above them screeched as it opened, and a bright light flowed into the box. The Gladers crouched in the far corners, the light blinding them for several moments. 

“Looks empty.” The voice was filled with a scratchiness, oddly familiar.  _ Was that Gally? _ The footsteps retreated, but then there was the sound of shuffling. The footsteps came close again, this time much heavier.  _ Damn it Tommy, how hard is it to stay silent!  _ He wanted to yell to Thomas. __

“Anyone in there?” It was a different voice this time- it sounded deeper and older. Newt froze, remembering the wood they’d used for the fire.  _ I hope the men don’t notice the planks…  _

“Wait, What’s that burnt thing in the back?” At this point, Newt was struggling to stay in the dark. He shifted quietly, getting ready to jump the man as a loud thump came from in front of him. Someone had gone into the box, and could spot him at any time. He had to act, now. 

**Thomas**

Thomas was too focused on the man who had entered to look at Newt, who was gone from where he’d been hiding. A blur of movement shot in front of him, and the man had fallen onto the floor. Newt was on top of them, the plank nowhere in sight. He was  _ punching _ the man.  _ Newt, what are you doing!  _ He screamed in his mind. He felt frozen in place, his feet cemented to the metal ground. He heard the boy above cocking a gun, panicking.

“Shit—Get the hell off of him!” He was yelling, his voice shook with desperation as he approached the pit and prepared to fire. 

“Stop!” Thomas screamed. He pushed off the wall, gaining momentum as ran across the opening, running past Newt and grabbing his arm. He slammed Newt to the wall, pinning his shoulders against the cold metal. Thomas glared at Newt, full of rage and shock. 

“What the hell has gotten into you?” He yelled. He didn’t pay attention to the man scrambling to his feet behind him. He heard another thump, then footsteps approaching the two of them. 

“Turn around. Now.” The boy was inside the box, and Thomas imagined the gun pointed at his head. He sighed, giving another glare at Newt. He turned around to see the boy in front of him, the pistol aimed at his chest. They froze, the gun not moving. His face was a mess of confusion, shock, and anger, but it melted away and a sarcastic smile spread across his face. 

“Well, if it isn’t our favorite Greenie. Hello again, Thomas.”

**Gally**

He looked at Thomas, felt it too good to be true. His smile turned to a stare. Narrowing his eyes, he knew something wasn’t right. It was all happening too fast, and everything was a blur until now. The boy that had tackled his friend walked up next to Thomas. His eyes were still full of rage, but he didn’t look as aggressive anymore.  _ A tamed little tiger. That’s always better than a wild one. _

“Hey shank,” Gally said sarcastically, staring at Newt. “Good to know you’re alive.”

“Gally, I—” He cut off Newt with a wave of his hand. 

“Not the time. You need to start answering some questions.” He gestured with the pistol for them to get in front of him; he could tell they were confused.  _ They might be faking it, for all I know.  _ Thomas sighed, staring a Gally a bit longer before getting in front. Jorge in the meanwhile wasn’t having the best time of his life. He stood up, grunting, then sighed before wiping away the blood on his nose.

“Damn. You’ve gotten stronger since the last time I’ve seen you,  _ muchachos _ .” Gally turned his attention back to Newt. He looked even more confused, and Gally couldn’t help but snicker. 

“You don’t get it, do you?” 

“Get what?" Thomas asked. "What the hell is going on-” 

“We’ll explain on the way,” Jorge interrupted. “Come on.” He shifted a launcher on his back, as if Gally couldn’t handle the boys. He half-glared at Jorge before bumping Thomas towards the top of the box. 

“Hurry up. Stay in front of us, and no sudden movements.” He stared at Newt. Anger glared in his eyes as Thomas looked between the two.

“Let's go,” Thomas half-whispered. “Now's not the time.” 

**Jorge**

Jorge jumped up, grabbing the edge of the stone before pulling himself up from inside the box. He nodded towards the Gladers. 

“You first.” He gestured with the handgun at Thomas, still half-dazed from when Newt had started punching him. The boy jumped up pretty flawlessly as he stood up slowly next to him. 

“Hey, Jorge—”

“Shut up.” Thomas looked between Jorge, then Newt, then sighed.  _ That boy doesn’t give up this easily, does he?  _ Jorge thought to himself. As Newt climbed up, his muscles felt tense.  _ He’d better not try me this time.  _ Then again, the situation wasn’t looking so good. They were out in the open, Gally in the box, and half-injured Jorge with two untamed boys on top. Jorge cocked his gun; he needed to be ready, just in case. He heard Gally start pulling himself up slowly, checking behind him for other stowaways, and turned his head to look.

**Newt**

_ He’s vulnerable. I’ve got this.  _ Swiftly, Newt lunged towards Jorge knocking the gun from his hands. He found the strap holding the launcher and yanked, the clasp snapping and the gun thrown towards him. He stumbled back, gripping the launcher firmly in his hand.  _ I used it before, I can use it again,  _ He thought. Newt placed his hand on the trigger and rested it on his shoulder, the gun sickeningly comfortable on him. He pointed the launcher towards Jorge, who had grabbed the pistol again and aimed at Newt. His hands were shaking more, looking ready to fire and get the point over with. Newt glanced quickly at Gally, who was frozen in place halfway out of the box by now. He didn’t make a move, and Newt took that advantage.

“Will someone  _ please  _ explain what the bloody hell is going on!” He yelled, not taking his eyes off Jorge and the gun. 

“Put the launcher down,  _ muchacho. _ ” Jorge said, surprisingly calm.

“Newt, listen to him,” Gally started. “None of this will help—”

“Slim it, Gally! I’m not talking to you!” Newt was starting to shake, not sure how long he could last upright. He’d been through everything now, without any sleep. His thoughts were cut short when he felt a hand lightly on his shoulder. He whipped around, kicking out his foot and slamming into someone. A yelp came from them, falling flat on the floor. Newt stomped a foot on the boy, aiming straight at the head. He didn’t glance long enough to recognize them before he spun around to look at Jorge, who was staring at him.

“You want this shank fried? Start talking, now!” He screamed, squeezing the trigger so tightly he thought it would fire anyway. 

“Newt, what the hell happened to you?” It was the boy. He hesitated, glaring a warning to Jorge, then turned to face them. He was Asian, strong built, and had short black hair. Minho. Newt stopped, his face softening. He dropped the launcher from Minho’s face and threw it to Thomas, who had instinctively caught it. He lifted his foot from Minho’s chest, grabbing his arm and pulling him up into a hug. 

**Minho**

Newt squeezed him tightly, not letting go anytime soon. He felt fatigued.  _ He probably couldn’t sleep in the box,  _ Minho thought. The Glader started to loosen his grip, and Minho tried to break free. Before he backed away completely, Newt grabbed his wrist rearing back his other arm. He punched him square in the face. Stumbling back, he heard the boy’s yells.

“Where have you been, you bloody slinthead!” Newt huffed.

“What are you talking about?” He wiped the blood that dripped down his chin. Newt was readying for another hit when Jorge stepped up. 

“That’s enough,  _ muchacho _ ,” he said, lowering his gun down just a little. Gally had walked up behind Jorge and Thomas, and Newt finally let go of him. Minho smiled, even if the situation wasn’t the best. Newt and Thomas were here. And alive.

**Gally**

“So,” Gally said, looking between Newt and Minho. “Who’s gonna talk first?”

“How about you  _ muchachos _ ?” Jorge asked. He’d already sat down on a small crate, his arms crossed. Thomas and Newt looked at each other, then Thomas nodded. Newt stepped up, sighing.

“Alright, fine.” He started. “But we don’t know a lot.” 

“Good enough for me.” Jorge said. Newt glared at him, but continued.

“We woke up in the box, and it brought us to this place. Then you guys show up with bloody guns, and now we’re here. Does that help you?” Gally noticed Thomas had frozen, staring down at the floor still holding Jorge’s gun. The boy looked like he was in a trance.

“Let’s go to the base,” Gally said, his gaze going back to Newt. “It’s much safer  _ there _ than  _ here _ .” He glanced at Jorge, flashing a look saying  _ there’s only one option. _ The man sighed, getting up from his crate. 

**Newt**

Jorge led the way through the damaged corridors. Rubble was scattered around the floor, and occasional cracks in the wall revealed the main building. It was destroyed completely, only tiny pieces of what used to be walls still stood. Almost as if someone had blown it up without any mercy.

“After the Right Arm blew up this place, WICKED abandoned it,” Gally said, seeing Newt curiously looking around the halls. “They didn’t blow up a small section of the building, though. We made it our home, since there’s no other buildings around here for miles.” Newt stared at Gally for a good ten seconds before starting again.  _ Why did the Right Arm leave this area untouched, but the rest destroyed?  _ He thought. He glanced at Thomas, who hadn’t spoken at all yet. It felt unlike him, the Glader’s head looking down at the ground. Newt went over to him, trying to hide most of his concern.

“Tommy, are you alright?” Thomas looked up at him, almost like he was just in another world. 

“Yeah.” His gaze slowly fell down to the ground again. Newt knew something wasn’t right. He patted Thomas on the shoulder and headed back to the front. 

“Hey, Gally,” Newt leaned closer to the boy. “I don’t think Tommy’s liking this place, to say the least.” Gally turned to glance at Thomas, who was now barely keeping up with the group. Gally scoffed. 

“You're getting to sound like Thomas’s mum.” Newt glared at him, to which he quickly added, “Well, the Changing does some messed up things to you.” 

Newt turned to look at Thomas one more time, not hiding the concern anymore. Whatever was going on in that boy’s head had to be bloody hell.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More lore :)

**Thomas**

He kept walking, not aware that he was slowing down. He kept trying to call for Teresa, screaming over and over for anyone to respond. He felt her presence ever since the fight with Newt and Minho, but she wasn’t responding no matter what. He had to keep pushing. Every other minute he stopped, catching up with the group or looking around. The corridors were getting more damaged as they walked for a little longer, eventually settling into a big room. The group wasn’t paying attention to him, so he slipped away to sit in a corner. He dropped down, still trying to contact Teresa. He didn’t realize how much it took out of him, feeling he could sleep for years.  _ Teresa? Teresa, please answer… I can’t do this forever. _

_ Tom? Is that you?  _ He almost jumped straight up. She finally said something back! He tried to calm down, still in his little corner.  _ Teresa, where are you? _

_ I don’t know. It’s really dark, but I can tell it’s a small room.  _ Thomas felt confused. Was she in the box? No, Newt and him just got  _ out _ of there.

_ Tom? _

_ I’m still here. Are you in the box again? Can you tell?  _ A pause. She was probably checking out her room.

_ I think I am,  _ she replied. _ It’s hard to say for sure, though. _

Thomas was every bit as confused as before _. But… that’s impossible, we just got out of the box. _

_ We? _

_ Newt and I,  _ he replied.  _ Then Minho, Gally, and Jorge pulled us out. _ Another pause, this time longer. Thomas felt like he might’ve lost her, but her presence stayed.  _ Teresa? _

_ Yeah?  _ She responded.

_ We’re in a destroyed WICKED complex. We didn’t get sent into the Maze. _

_ So is there a whole other box system?  _ Her curiosity filled Thomas. He didn’t know how much time had passed as they talked about everything that happened.

_ If WICKED  _ did _ send us back here, would this place be like another trial? Like, a fourth one that we need to complete?  _ Teresa asked.

_ I’m not—  _ He didn’t have time to respond as someone started to shake him, hard. He looked up to see Newt gripping him tightly. Minho and Gally were right behind him, all three of their faces filled with concern.

“Tommy, you alright?” Newt let go of him, staring into his eyes. 

“What do you mean?” Thomas didn’t know what else to say as his gaze jumped back and forth between people.

“Dude, you were spaced out in the corner. We tried to call to you, but you didn’t move.” Minho crossed his arms, staring down at him. Thomas realized his head had started to throb from talking to Teresa so long. Newt helped him up, and he had to hold onto the wall to steady himself.

“Well, seeing that you needed to be shaken awake, I assume you would need me to repeat what I said.” Gally said, almost annoyed at Thomas. “The short version of it is that we think it’s a type of  _ Phase 4 _ of the trials. We need to find a way out of here without Cranks swarming us.” 

**Minho**

Thomas explained why he zoned out in the corner, for the most part. Teresa had ended up in another box from what she could tell, and the two were talking about another possible fourth trial as well. 

“So where do you think Teresa is getting sent to?” Newt asked, staring at Thomas.

“I don’t know,” he replied, turning to face Gally. “Is there another box-hole here?” Gally froze for a second, staring at Minho with a questioning look. Minho tensed, subtly nodding towards the boy.

“Yeah,” he replied slowly, returning his gaze to Newt. “There’s one in a different part of the building, about a mile away from the box you shanks came up from.” 

“Wait-” Jorge looked between Thomas and Newt. “You’re not gonna go there, right?” He stood up from his spot on the floor when he was getting in some sleep, stepping beside Minho.

“Why not?” Thomas’s face was filled with confusion and concern. When Gally didn’t answer and only scoffed, he asked again. “Answer me, Gally.”

Gally sighed. “It’s infested with Cranks.”

“We can get rid of them.” Thomas looked around the room. “You guys have guns. Weapons. We can take them. Or else when Teresa comes up—”

“ _ No _ , muchaco _. _ ” Jorge seemed slightly off. His eyes were unreadable, and his expression filled to the brim with feelings of the past. Newt shifted his weight from one leg. The silence didn’t feel right. “I’m not gonna risk losing you  _ too _ .”

“Losing us?” Thomas stepped back, right beside Newt. The two of them looked confused.

“We lost Brenda to them,” Gally responded. Minho kept quiet as he saw Thomas’s expression change to something close to horror. 

“She’s not a Crank yet, or at least we hope.” The boy continued. Thomas let out a breath, and the tension between them faded slightly. Seeing Thomas relax made Minho ease too, leaning against a wall as he watched the conversation.

“Then— what happened?” The boy’s voice came out quiet, and strange. 

“She ran the other way, and we never saw her again after that.” Minho responded, gripping his handgun aggressively as if he was going to fire.

**Jorge**

Jorge’s head spun. He  _ did _ want to find Brenda again, but there was no way he’d go into an army of Cranks now.  _ Not for anyone. Never again.  _

“Jorge. Jorge!” He snapped back into reality, Gally calling his name in front of him.  _ Maybe this isn’t real,  _ he thought. _ Maybe Brenda’s been right here this whole time.  _

“Yeah?” His voice sounded off, and full of desperation for something they all knew they couldn’t get back, no matter how hard they would try.

“Come on,” Gally said, patting him on the shoulder. “We need to get moving on Thomas’s goose chase.” Gally grabbed a couple launchers, handing them to Jorge. He was hurrying, and Jorge noticed that Thomas was close to sprinting out the door and running blindly through the halls to find the box if he had to. Newt was eyeing the boy carefully, ready to grab him in case he did try, Minho prepping his launcher close by.

“Alright, we’ve got a straight line ahead of us for the first couple minutes, then a turn right,” Gally said, walking over to the door. “That’ll lead us to the main path out, and then a secret entry point to the box.”

The group nodded, then the door swung open. It hit the wall, clanging loudly as heavy footsteps ran out of the room. Thomas was already out of the room and a third of the way down the hall.

**Newt**

The wind whistled as Newt ran after Thomas, who was half-sprinting, half-jogging awkwardly. The boy never stopped going, though. Newt knew that Thomas was getting desperate, eager to get to the box as fast as he could. Minho was struggling to keep up with Thomas just like him, but Newt’s limp slowed him down. 

“Tommy, slow down!” He called to Thomas, still running. Thomas wasn’t responding, though. The Glader just kept sprinting down the hall, Minho starting to gain on Thomas. He turned a corner to the right, then Minho. A yell echoed from where the two disappeared. Newt strained his legs to push harder, his breathing ragged from the running. Grunting, he reached the corner. He stopped himself, catching his breath as he saw Thomas on the ground. A Crank with a nasty looking knife pinned him down. 

“Thomas!” Newt shouted. Minho didn’t move, almost in a trance as the Crank was inching his blade to Thomas’s neck. Newt kicked out his foot, connecting with the Crank’s head. They screamed, stumbling to the side and clutching the spot where Newt had hit them. Thomas was up in a second, backing up next to Newt and Minho.

“Thanks Newt,” he huffed, touching his neck and staring at the twitching Crank. It was a man, definitely past the Gone. A glint of rage shone in his eyes, and he lunged towards Newt. He couldn’t react in time, and tumbled to the ground.

**Minho**

Minho broke out of his stupor, and immediately started kicking off the Crank. Newt was yelling, punching the Crank to break free. Gally and Jorge had rounded the corner, Gally cocked a gun and aimed at the Crank, struggling to find a good shot. Minho stopped kicking, backing up to help Gally.

“Newt, stop punching for a second!” He yelled over the maddening voices and screeching. Newt stopped, only pushing the man to hold him steady. A loud boom echoed across the corridors, and the Crank fell limp as its’ body slowly draped over Newt’s body. The screams stopped abruptly, the once alive man’s body falling to the side of the Glader as Newt pushed it off. Thomas and Minho helped Newt back up to his feet, who was sighing in relief.

“Well then,” Newt said between heavy breaths. “Shall we keep going?” Thomas nodded, and Jorge stared into the west; the sun was setting, and it was setting fast. If they were going to get there, they needed to hurry.

“How much farther to the box, Gally?” Thomas said.

“Not much. The closer we get to the box, the more Cranks are swarming.” Thomas turned and was already running again, and Minho let out a sigh. He started after the Glader, Newt and Gally right behind him.  _ One day,  _ Minho thought.  _ that boy’s confidence is going to get him killed. _

**Thomas**

He didn’t look back as he ran. He called out to Teresa again, his head already beginning to ache.  _ Teresa? You still there? _

_ Yeah, I am,  _ She replied.  _ What happened? _

_ Look, we might be coming to get you out of the box.  _ Thomas didn’t want to answer her question.  _ Is anyone with you?  _ A pause. Thomas felt another presence acknowledge itself in his mind, but more subtle. 

_ No, I’m alone,  _ She replied. More screams came from up ahead. Thomas’s body tensed, ready to punch the first thing that moved. A small group of Cranks ran at them, and Thomas swung his arm out. It connected with a head, and the Crank fell to the ground. He stomped roughly on the man’s chest. The body twitched, reminding Thomas that he didn’t have much time before more Cranks began pilling up around him. He needed to run. The momentum let Thomas run faster as he pushed off the Crank, and he sprinted straight forward. He left the sounds of battle, and ran blindly out of the building. He felt a large group of Cranks forming behind him, all of them screeching with fury. He couldn’t stop now; his fight or flight instinct flared in his mind, but he knew there was only one thing he could do— and  _ wanted _ to do.

**Gally**

Thomas was completely gone. He ran off, and now no one knew where he was. The Cranks were either gone or dead, by the looks of it. Gally stood up, regrouping with the others. 

“Where’s Thomas?” Minho huffed, staring at him.

“You think I know?” He replied.

“I saw him run straight ahead,” Newt said, stepping up. Gally sighed.  _ Of course he goes alone, _ he thought.  _ He’s gonna get himself killed.  _ “Alright, we better go get him.” Minho ran first, followed by Gally and Newt. Jorge was in the back, keeping an eye out for more Cranks. They kept going for a minute or two, and stopped when they hit a fork in the hallways. 

“Okay, if Thomas was running  _ forward _ , he’d have no one to say which way he has to take,” Gally said, pausing to catch his breath. “So he’d go to the right, out into the sun.” He pointed to the main path, light seeping from around the corner. 

“Out into the open? Are you kidding?” Minho looked annoyed as he replied.

“He wouldn’t know that, Minho,” Newt said, but then paused. Gally looked over to the boy; he was definitely thinking. After a few moments, he sighed and stared at the ground.

“Shuck it,” Newt said, finally. His expression had changed close to anger. “If he jumped into that bloody place on purpose…”

“Well, let’s go save his butt then.” Gally replied, starting to jog down the main path. The rest of the group joined in, and they ran into the hallway.

**Thomas**

He sprinted on the edge of a forest, panting with every breath. He’d been running straight for about 10 minutes, and he was starting to slow. The screams of the Cranks had lessened— he guessed around eight of them were left. Thomas had to fight,  _ now _ . He spun around and kicked out his foot, then his arm. He hit a Crank in the leg, who stumbled back and knocked a few down with them. Thomas kept running, starting to curve back towards the hallway he came from. Every so often he’d hit behind him again, connecting with an arm or a head, then go back to running. When only two were left standing for the moment, he took his chance and started fighting them. He kicked and punched wildly, realizing he’d started screaming. Thomas didn’t care— he just needed to  _ win _ . A fist slammed into his face, sending him tumbling backward onto the ground. He scrambled to his feet, but a kick to his back made him fall down again. He twisted around, swinging his arm at the side of the Crank’s head. They screamed, stumbling to the side and letting Thomas go. He got onto his feet, but paused when he looked around. Terror washed over him. The other Cranks were starting to get up, seeing Thomas and running towards him. How could he fight six more Cranks when he barely survived two? He glanced around, backing up against the wall of the building.  _ When did I get so close to it? _ He thought, the fear growing in him.

**Gally**

The outside of the complex was just ahead of the group. Yells echoed through the corridor as they got closer to the opening of the hall, leading out into the sunlight. Minho was the first one out, his eyes scanning the terrain. Gally came out next, Newt and Jorge close behind. Gally looked over to the source of where the screams were coming from— a large group of Cranks were huddling over in a corner, all trying to claw their way to something. Some of them were being pushed back, sent tumbling to the ground by someone in the middle of it. 

“There!” Newt pointed to the Cranks, spotting them too. “Come on!” He broke into a stuttering run, Minho outpacing him and sprinting straight ahead. Gally readied his launcher, holding it up and firing. A few of the Cranks dropped dead, giving enough space to see Thomas in the center, battling his way out. Minho, who had gotten over to the Cranks, started punching and kicking at anything that came near him. He was aimed for Thomas, trying to get him out of the middle. Newt came in next, gripping a piece of debris he’d picked up and started swinging it at the Cranks’ heads. They were scattering now, either dead or running away from the brawl. Gally aimed at the Cranks outside of the main battle, firing at them until they stopped moving.

**Minho**

After the pack of Cranks had dissipated, they all paused to catch their breath. Minho was glaring at Thomas, looking like he would punch the klunk out of the Glader.

“What the bloody hell were you thinking, Tommy?” Newt said, his tone sounding annoyed. Thomas straightened, looking at him. 

“What did you think I was doing?” He snapped, the same tone in his voice as Newt’s. “Trying to kill myself?”

“It sure looked like you were.” Gally scoffed. Thomas was glaring now, looking like he wanted to take them all on. Minho glanced between the two, feeling the thick line of hatred growing between them again. Thomas sighed, Minho seeing he was trying to calm down. “I was trying to get to the box, but as you can see I went the wrong way.”

“And bring the Cranks  _ closer _ to Teresa?” Gally replied. “Like that would’ve been a good plan.” Thomas started to step forward, his hand reared back, ready to punch Gally in the face. He was pissed off, alright. Newt stood up, catching Thomas right before he swung at Gally. The two boys stood there for a second, then Thomas stepped back, pushing Newt’s arm away from him as he went. His gaze never left Gally, his eyes flaring with rage as Newt sat back down.

“With that settled,” Newt cast a quick glare at Thomas. “We better get to the box. Gally, can you lead the way?”

“Yeah, I can. Thomas ran right by the entrance to it, actually.” Gally got to his feet, and motioned for the group to follow. They traveled through the halls in silence, Gally at the front, and Thomas in the back to separate the two from fighting each other. He turned down a narrow corridor branching off the main path and opened a door, letting everyone into the room. 

**Thomas**

It was very similar to the room Newt and Thomas were in, after they got pulled out of the box. The hatch was in the middle, surrounded by four large concrete walls, and a few supplies scattered around the floor.  _ Teresa?  _ He called out to her. 

_ Tom? What happened?  _ The same question. He decided to answer it, but not with the exact truth.

_ We had to fight some Cranks, nothing much. But we’re at the box-hole now. _

_ Really?  _

_ Yeah. I’ll be waiting at the top for you, I hope.  _ He felt Teresa smile, and it made him feel calmer. He walked straight over to the square hole in the center, crouching down beside it. He glanced around; Newt and Minho were at a corner, talking. Gally was on the opposite wall to him, and Jorge was at the door to the room. The hatch was already open— he just needed to wait for the box to come up. 

**Jorge**

Everything felt all too familiar. Brenda’s disappearance seemed to have happened only yesterday; he’d never forget the look on her face as she ran, away from safety, away from him. He knew she’d be able to protect herself; he always did. But it all didn’t add up. Something wasn’t right. Maybe she ran not because of the Cranks- it was because of  _ him _ . Brenda was gone, because of him. Slowly, he backed up, the metal clanking softly beneath his shoes. He needed to be alone, and he needed that now. He turned around, walking away from the voices. His quick walk soon turned into a jog— when he was far away enough to not be heard— then a sprint. He didn’t know what he was doing. Or where he was going. He just needed to be alone. 

**Gally**

A loud grinding sound of thick metal wire brushing against each other sounded as a box came up from the empty darkness. Crossing his arms, Gally stared at Thomas; then back at the box hole.  _ This better be good,  _ He thought.  _ If it’s just another supply drop... and we had to fight all those Cranks to get here.  _ Letting out an exasperated sigh, the group waited as the box slowly came up. A familiar screeching filled the air from the hatch door as it opened, Thomas right at the edge of the hole. His eyes darted all around the small room, looking for something. Gally came over, peering down into the box, with Minho and Newt close behind him. A voice called out from the room below.

“Tom? Tom, are you up there?” Gally’s eyes widened. It was Teresa, coming out of the shaded corner of the box and looking up. He glanced over at Thomas, who was smiling softly. Thomas’s gaze slowly turned to Gally; he nodded at Thomas, then jumped down into the box. The Glader followed, immediately going over to hug Teresa.

“Teresa…” Thomas whispered, almost inaudible. Teresa looked up, spotting Newt and Minho, then her gaze fell down at Gally. She smiled with a hint of delight, a strange feeling for her.

“Tom, I’m so glad we found you! And the Gladers, too!” Her voice was warm, filling the air with calmness. Gally paused; something was off.

“Wait…  _ we _ ?” He said, uneasiness leaking into his voice. Teresa looked over to him, an unreadable expression crossing her face.

“Aris and I,” she said. “We were in the box together.”

**Thomas**

Dropping his arms from around Teresa, Thomas stepped back. He scanned around the pitch-black box.  _ So this is what it felt like from Gally and Jorge’s view. Damn.  _ A young boy stepped out of the dark corner behind Teresa, waving sheepishly to the group. Thomas strained himself not to scream, to yell at Teresa. He shook his head, looking straight at Teresa.  _ Why didn’t you tell me?  _ He didn’t hide the anger he felt towards her right then.

_ I didn’t think you’d like to know,  _ She said. 

_ Why wouldn’t I want to—  _ Thomas paused, almost shaking his head again.  _ I  _ asked _ you if anyone was with you! _

_ I’m sorry.  _ She  _ felt _ sad, but her face didn’t show it.  _ What’s the problem? Why is this so—  _ she paused, but didn’t continue. Thomas frowned, turning to look at Aris.  _ Can you hear me? _

_ Yeah, I can.  _ The boy looked over at Thomas, a hint of annoyance in his eyes. Gally reached for his pistol slowly, his eyes locked on Aris just like everyone else in the room. Thomas knew what he was thinking. He knew Minho wouldn’t support it, but it was safety that mattered more than anything else. Narrowing his eyes at Aris, the boy flinched and looked at the Gladers surrounding the box. 

_ Who are you? And why are you here?  _ Aris’s face started to fill with confusion.

_ Aris. From the trials, Remember? And I got here just like Teresa did. What are you doing?  _ The boy looked at Thomas, still confused as ever. Thomas didn’t want to have to bring this up, but he needed to make sure. 

_ Then who killed Rachel?  _ Aris froze, tears forming in his eyes. Aris opened his mouth, then closed it again. His face hardened, a glare aimed at Thomas. 

_ Don’t talk about her like that- you know who killed her. We all  _ fucking _ do.  _ Aris lunged forward, punching Thomas straight in the face. He yelled in surprise, stumbling backward to the wall of the box.  _ At least now I know it’s really him,  _ Thomas thought. He dodged another fist flying at him. Newt yelled something, but Thomas didn’t hear it. He ran forward to Aris, swinging his arm out and connecting with the boy’s shoulder, using his momentum from the run to slam Aris down. He hit the ground hard, kicking out his legs and hitting Thomas. He was on his feet in an instant, and Thomas stumbled back readying for another punch. But someone grabbed his arms, holding him back. Gally and Teresa were on Aris, who was glaring at Thomas. He looked up, seeing Newt and Minho. He hadn’t realized they jumped down into the box.

“What the bloody hell were you guys saying to each other?” Newt said, his gaze shifting between Aris and him. Thomas looked back at the boy, his expression unreadable.  _ I’m not sorry, Aris, _ he called. The boy turned to Teresa, his sharp glare never leaving Thomas. Teresa’s eyes widened, darting to him then back to Aris. 

“Tom, why?” She walked slowly over to him, Newt and Minho letting him go. He stood up, his face still hardened. 

“Because  _ you _ didn’t tell me anything about him,” he replied. “I didn’t know he was with you until  _ now _ .” Aris walked up behind Teresa, but Thomas didn’t look at him. He walked past them to the edge of the hatch, jumping up and grabbing the ledge. He pulled himself out of the box, and walked to a crate nearby. He sat down, putting his head in his hands, and groaned in frustration. 

**Aris**

Minho jumped out of the box next, followed by Newt. Gally reluctantly followed when they heard Thomas talking to the Gladers. Aris glanced over to Teresa, then tried to grab onto the ledge.  _ So,  _ he started, eager to break up the tense atmosphere.  _ What now? _

_ No clue, but I don’t think this is good.  _ She came over to help him up, watching him miss and fall on his back. He reached the ledge with Teresa’s help, pushing himself up into the room. Aris looked around, catching every detail including the group huddled over in a corner.  _ Looks like a WICKED place,  _ he said, turning back to help Teresa up. 

_ Tom told me it was,  _ she replied.  _ He said that it was destroyed.  _ Aris looked around again, focusing on the group. Teresa had pulled herself up without his help, and Aris jumped when she bumped into him. 

“Sorry.” she whispered. Aris nodded, then walked over to the Gladers. Thomas backed up slightly when he got there, but it was subtle. He seemed frustrated; mentally lost. He was somehow different from the one Aris had been with in the Scorch.

“So what do we do?” snapped Gally. Aris flinched; at least  _ someone _ here was still the same.

“What’s with the tone?” Teresa’s gaze flickered between Gally and Thomas as she spoke. “First you get angry because Aris is with me, and now Gally’s angry too? Tell me what’s going on.” Thomas stood up from where he sat, and stared at Teresa, tiredness gleaming in his eyes. Aris slightly backed up. The air was filled with tension and silence. Minho turned to look at him and nodded, as if reassuring Aris, or at least that’s what he got out of it anyway. Aris nodded back subtly, the bright orange sun behind him casting a harsh glare on the debris.

**Teresa**

Tension hung in the air. Gally stared at Aris, not moving a muscle. Teresa opened her mouth to say something— anything to break the silence, but could only get out what seemed to be a whisper. 

“Guys,” Teresa started. The group turned to stare at her. Gally, more menacingly. “What’s going on? Ever since—”

“Jorge’s missing, okay? And it’s the damn Greenie’s fault.” His words sliced through the air like a knife. Teresa stiffened as Thomas looked at her. 

_ He’s lying. It doesn’t have anything to do with me,  _ he called out to her. Newt must’ve noticed the looks Thomas and Teresa gave to each other.

“Let’s just go look for him, alright? It’s nobody’s fault.” His stare fell on Gally as he spoke. 

“Well then, uh, let's split up into teams,” Minho chimed in. “We can look for Jorge and if we can’t find him, we’ll keep looking. Tomorrow.” Teresa nodded, agreeing.

“Fine,” Gally scoffed. “Newt and Minho, you go back outside. I’ll go look towards the base, Thomas and his little  _ group _ can go look  _ in _ side.” 

“What? Why do  _ I  _ have to go with Teresa?” Thomas yelled back to Gally. “Do you not remember during the—” Thomas paused, glancing back to Teresa. She felt embarrassed, feeling the other Gladers staring at her in silence too.

“What?” Gally’s expression changed to more of a confusion.  _ Please don’t tell him, Tom,  _ she pleaded to him, desperation filling her voice.

I  _ won’t.  _ Thomas turned away from her, looking back at Gally. “Nevermind, let’s go.” Gally hesitated, but then walked off down a hallway. Newt and Minho started down one with light seeping around the corner, and Thomas nudged Teresa to go the other way.

**Newt**

“Well, that seemed to go better than I thought.” Newt looked at the boy next to him as they walked down the hallway. 

“Yeah, like a tiger versus a lion. I’m glad they didn’t start beating the klunk out of each other again.” Minho sighed, looking out towards the field that greeted them at the end of the corridor. 

“Maybe Tommy should’ve come with  _ us _ ,” he said. “He’s already been out here, he knows a little more than we do.”

“Yeah, but you know what that shank would end up doing to himself.” Minho yawned, squinting through the harsh glare the sun cast around the area. The pine forest seemed to light up, and something white shone in the middle. Newt strained his eyes to adjust— the white light was definitely not natural.

“Hey, Minho…” he started, turning to look at the Glader. Minho had obviously seen it too.

“Might as well take a look,” he said, nodding at Newt. “The Cranks must be long gone by now.”

“Yeah,” Newt snickered. “Long  _ past  _ the Gone.” The two boys shared a few laughs, all the while jogging over towards the light ahead. Twilight draped across the sky like a giant blanket— there was maybe only a couple hours left before nightfall, so they had to hurry if they were gonna find Jorge. Wherever the bloody hell he ran off to.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More lore  
> Sorry it's short, working on new sections soon.

**Aris**

Silence hung in the air as the group walked down the hallway, their footsteps clacking on the metal floor. Jorge must’ve ran far from the box; he was nowhere to be seen. Pausing, Aris looked around. It had been a few hours since Thomas had blew up at him, if he was the real Thomas anyway. Yet it seemed to be just seconds ago Gally had accused Thomas of what happened to Jorge. 

“Aris, c’mon. We have to hurry,” said Teresa, not turning to look at him as she talked. 

“Yeah, alright,” he replied. They continued walking as the sun cast a bronze glow through the corridor, the silence not helping much. Teresa’s voice broke through the quiet atmosphere.

“You know, you didn’t have to mention it.” It was Teresa. Aris heard Thomas sigh as the boy responded, “I know.” The two took the lead as Aris let himself drag behind— this wasn’t something he wanted to be a part of.

“Why can’t you just forget it?”

“I tried, and now look what happened.” Thomas paused and turned to Teresa, a growl hinting in his voice. 

“Just because Jorge is missing doesn’t mean you get to start beating Aris up. He doesn’t have anything to do with this—”

“First of all, he punched first. And now you’re protecting him—”

“You sound _ just _ like Gally,” interrupted Teresa. Aris froze, his breathing seemed to get quieter by the second. 

“Yeah? Well maybe it’s the right thing to be.” He turned and walked on, leaving Teresa standing there, glaring at him. She soon followed behind, and Aris afterwards. He still didn’t understand what all the klunk had to do with him. He walked silently after Teresa, flinching as the slightest sounds underneath his shoes. A slight panting sound caught Aris’s attention; he looked behind him, but nothing was there. He was getting nervous— someone was following the group.

“Hey… is anyone there?” Aris tried to hide the fear in his voice. He didn’t want whoever was there to think he was vulnerable. “Newt, Minho— this isn’t funny.” Thomas and Teresa were back to arguing again, Aris turned slowly to face them. He kept his eye behind him, watching for any movement. The panting grew louder; a small whimper seeming to come from that direction as it slowly began to rise into a silent screech. 

“Guys…” Aris glanced over to the group, trying to catch their attention. This wasn’t a joke. The quiet scream kept growing louder, footsteps now coming towards him. “Guys! Help—” He couldn’t respond as a hand violently yanked him backwards and off his feet. 

**Teresa**

Thomas stopped talking as screams echoed through the hallway. Teresa couldn’t tell who was yelling more; the Crank on top of Aris, or the boy himself. She ran over, kicking at the Crank to try and get him off of Aris— Thomas was on the ground, pulling at the Crank’s arms. She tripped over the Glader as she continued to aim at the Crank’s head, glaring at Thomas.

“I can handle this myself, you know! You're not helping,” grunted Teresa. Aris cried out as a blade dug into his left arm; the Crank had pulled out a knife while they weren’t paying attention. Teresa hit harder at the Crank, connecting hard with its head and sending it tumbling off of Aris. The Crank fell onto the ground, flailing its arms wildly as Thomas started dragging Aris away from the Crank. Screams rang through the corridors. 

“Okay,” Thomas huffed. “We need to get back to the box,  _ now _ . Teresa, can you—” his words were cut off by a yell. Teresa looked back down, Aris was kicking at the Crank, who’d dug it’s nails deep into his leg. Teresa immediately grabbed a piece of debris and swung it at the Crank as hard as she could. She swung again, and again, until Aris was free from it’s grasp. Thomas wrapped the boy’s arm around his shoulders, supporting him as they stumbled back in the direction of the box.

“Teresa! Can you fight them off?” Thomas yelled through panting breaths.

“Yeah!” Teresa called back, still beating at the Crank on the ground.

“Good, because there’s never just one!” He yelled. “We need to get to the others!” Thomas started to walk faster, Aris trying to help him out.

“Good that.” Teresa responded, not sure if the boys heard it. More screams came from the direction of the Crank, then pounding footsteps as three more came out of the darkness ahead. Teresa started swinging at the Cranks, knocking them down as they got back up.  _ I hope Tom can pick up the pace,  _ she thought.  _ I won’t be able do this forever. _


End file.
